


Stranger Spells

by LordBlackberry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 20:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19911391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordBlackberry/pseuds/LordBlackberry
Summary: After a magical accident wipes out the entire magical world except him, Harry searches for a simpler life. He finds that life in Hawkins. This simplicity doesn't last long as he is quickly embroiled in the disappearance of Will Byers, the escaped Demogorgon, and the elusive young girl named Eleven. In addition to a new job, a new romance, and a brand new home, Harry is in for an exciting time in Hawkins. But what was he to expect, the 80s was a crazy decade.





	Stranger Spells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know this seems like an odd concept but I simply had to write this after I finished season 3 of Stranger Things. Steve is such a sweetheart and I felt compelled to pair him up with another equally sweet boy from a different fandom. Just a few quick notes: this is set in the 80s, the events of Harry Potter happened in the 80s and 70s and can simply be transplanted into the two decades, this will hopefully be a lengthy fic and I will try and update as often as possible, in this AU Steve will have graduated by season 1 just so the ages and life stages line up, and i'm note sure how i'm gonna handle homophobia in the decade particularly in the small town America (which Hawkins is emblematic). Any and all suggestions as to how I should approach this are welcome as are any other suggestions in regards to any other part of the story. I hope you enjoy the fic and feel free to leave a comment, suggestion or a bit of criticism. I am looking forward to see where this goes!

Harry struggled to maintain the grip on his wand as their spells collided with a sickening crack. Coloured sparks showered the space between them where the two beams had connected, obscuring Harry’s vision of Voldemort and making their duel even more difficult than it already was. But Harry had one thing that Voldemort didn’t: mastery over the Elder Wand. Harry urged his wand forward, pressing his advantage as his spell crept ever closer to Voldemort. Memories flooded Harry’s mind: memories of his friends, memories of his family, memories of Hogwarts. All of them sacrifices which were about to justified. His disarming spell connected with Voldemort, but instead of flinging the wand across the courtyard and into Harry’s outstretched Hand it did something very different. The Elder Wand had endured many duels before, but never one like this. This duel was a contest between ownership and raw power. Caught between those two opposing forces was the Elder Wand and it could not resist any longer. The moment Harry’s spell connected with it, the wand split down the middle, exposing it’s inner workings and shattering with a deafening bang. A black light emanated from the wand on destruction, expanding and growing before bursting out in a colossal wave. It spread across the world, energised by the immense power of the Elder Wand and the duel which secured its fate.

Future magical theorists disagree over what exactly happened next, but they all agree on the gist of it: all magical life was erased. All magical life except one. Harry Potter was the true master of the Elder Wand and being the wands true master meant he was shielded from it’s cataclysmic effects. Opening his eyes after lunging to the ground and throwing up a hasty protego, Harry was confronted with a desolate battlefield. There wasn’t a witch, wizard, werewolf or Welsh green in sight. Nor was there any evidence of their destruction, there was just nothing.

“Hello?” Yelled Harry tentatively

“Hermione?”

“Ron?”

“Anyone?!” Harry screamed in frustration

He cast his eyes around the smouldering remains of Hogwarts’ courtyard. Debris continued to fall from the walls and patches of smoking flames happily blazed away, but there wasn't a person in sight. Remembering Voldemort, Harry turned around and searched for his body. There was nothing. After 17 years of constant threats, Voldemort was gone. All that remained was the cracked remnants of the Elder Wand, scattered across the ground where Voldemort had stood only moments ago. Harry was alone, utterly and desperately alone.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For six straight months, Harry searched high and low across the globe for any evidence of the wizarding world. He found shops with no owners, homes with no residents and schools with no students. Every magic user in the world had been instantaneously erased from the face of the earth in a matter of seconds. Left behind were the structures, items, and artefacts that constituted millennia of magical inhabitancy. Harry grew more and more desperate with each country he visited. The absence of magical life weighed on him heavily, but he didn’t for a moment think it was his own fault. What had happened was a freak accident and as a result he had lost so very much. As he travelled, Harry thought it best to make use of his time. With each country he visited, he learnt more about their magic, history and developed his own abilities as a wizard. It certainly didn’t make up for 6 years of lacklustre engagement with the Hogwarts curriculum, but it was undoubtedly a rigorous and intensive period of education.

On his return to Britain, Harry felt a mixture of emotions. It had been some time since he had lost his friends and class mates, and while the pain was dulled it certainly wasn’t forgotten. On the brighter side of things, he’d collected 65 novelty key rings from the 65 countries he’d visited and managed to gather some intriguing trinkets along the way. He found a spear which froze and shattered enemies on contact in Russia, a sentient levitating boomerang in Australia, and a bottomless bottle of maple syrup from Canada. All treasured artefacts in their native countries and which were now crashing around the inside of Harry’s magically extended satchel. They weren’t particularly useful objects, but they made Harry giggle a bit whenever he thought of the witch or wizard who spent years labouring over their creation centuries ago. When he did return to England, Harry was confronted with painful recollection on every street. The familiar landscapes and cities bombarded him with memories of a time he could never go back to. England held too many reminders of a bygone past. He needed to go somewhere fresh, somewhere without so much emotional baggage. He could deal with a carry on bag or two, but the numerous suitcases jammed into England’s cargo hold exceeded even Harry’s high threshold for trauma.

But before Harry could jet off to the other side of the country, he needed to take stock of his possessions. He’d never fully explored his vault and the vault of his parents, so with this in mind he went to Gringotts to see what he could use to start afresh. Before he delved into the depths of the bank, he wandered through the barren foyer had been previously populated by the clink and clank of commercial transactions. Heading to the podium where the head goblin sat, Harry flicked through the large book which he recalled Gringotts consulting before allowing him further into the bank. It was a heavy tome with brittle pages, and under Potter there were 2 vaults: his vault and his parents’. It was difficult to get down there, as goblin cart operators usually spent 5 years learning the layout of the cavernous catacombs beneath the bank. Harry, on the other hand, only had 5 minutes to find out where the carts were (to the right of the bronze dragon statue if anyone was wondering). When Harry did eventually get into the cart he realised that he didn’t really know where his vault was, there were potentially thousands of vaults, stretched across hundred of floors and among those vaults, two of them were his. He scanned the control panel, looking for something to help him and spied a bright purple button with delicate gold writing emblazoned across it’s face: “Prototype Autonomous Guide”. Having no other choice, Harry secured himself to the seat with a sticking charm and gingerly pressed the button. Shielding his face in preparation for some sort of magical accident, he was surprised to see, not a swarm of explosive bats appear, but instead the projection of a flickering and ethereal goblin into the cart alongside him.

“Greetings Gringotts customer. Welcome to the Autonomous Guide system. Would you like to input a destination?” Spoke the ghostly goblin in a clear and precise voice.

“Uhhhh, yeah…hi. Could you take me to vault 687?” Harry said tentatively, dubious of this new fangled wizarding innovation.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Replied the guide

“Vault 687.” Harry repeated with as much clarity as possible.

“Certainly. Would you like to travel at a slow, medium, or fast pace? For those who have never enjoyed a Gringotts Cart RideTM we suggest travelling at slow as decapitation, disembowelment and other gruesome deaths can occur on higher speeds.” 

“Slow it is then.” Harry replied a little grimly

“Thank you for using the Autonomous Guide system. Initiating travel to vault 687 now.” The goblin stated with a courteous bow before disappearing.

The cart jolted forward at an ungodly speed and burst from the docking bay and into the cavernous depths of Gringotts. To Harry, this certainly didn’t feel like slow. The cart wound through the tunnels of the bank, taking sharp corners and occasionally stopping at junctions as if it was unsure of which route to take before bursting off in one direction or another. After passing through waterfalls, almost being beheaded by a stalactite and doing three corkscrews the cart stopped in front of a row of vaults, none of which looked liked Harry’s.

“We have arrived at vault 687, please enjoy your…actually, this doesn’t look like vault 687 at all. Hold on.” Said the autonomous guide who had reappeared when they had arrived. After realising this was most definitely not vault 687 , the goblin pulled out a large and unwieldy map which he struggled to fold out to its full extent.

“Ok, sooooo, we passed the waterfall on level one and we took a right at Jert’s Junction, meaning we are at…vault 562. Oh blast, I did tell the higher ups this system needed further development.” Said the goblin in an irritated voice, he turned to Harry after putting away his map and immediately his manner switched from disgruntled to professional “Please bear with us as we seek to address these technical difficulties. The cart journey will start once more in 10 seconds, promptly secure your person and belongings.”

The cart ride began with a jolt as it did before, but it appeared the speed had been lowered from Turbo Ultra to Medium. While it wasn’t the slow he’d selected, it was a step in the right direction. The cart went deeper into the labyrinth of Gringotts. It was mostly smooth sailing apart from a few moments where his guide had to appear and decide which direction to take or whether to start plummeting to the ground. This time they were successful, his metaphysical goblin friend chose the right turns and knew exactly when to send the cart plummeting to another set of tracks kilometres below. They stopped outside of Harry’s vaults with a muffled clank and a cheery “Thank you for choosing Gringotts!” before he exited the cart and stepped onto the path which was adjacent to the row of vaults before him. Looking to the left he found his personal vault: 687, filled with the gold his parents entrusted to him, and his parents’ vault: 686. He’d never been in there before as he only gained access to it on his 17 birthday and he had bigger to fish to fry at the time, so what was inside was entirely unknown.

He first entered his own vault. It was exactly how he left it: galleons piled high in messy mounds, sickles strewn across the stone brick floor and knuts in small neat stacks throughout the room. It was a comforting sight to see that while everyone he knew had suddenly disappeared, his finances had stayed put. Harry opened the magically extended coin purse he found in an abandoned bazaar in Cairo and summoned every coin in sight into it.

“Accio currency.” Harry said in a clear and crisp tone. All at once, his entire material wealth levitated on the spot and sped into the open purse at break neck speed. After almost being knocked unconscious by a couple of rogue sickles, he closed the purse with a satisfying snap.

He walked out of the room and cast a last reminiscent glance at the vault which had served him so well over the years: not once had he been robbed or had a tax investigation launched against him. This made Gringotts, at least in Harry's eyes, truly a wonderful financial institution. Closing his vault with a clank and a thud, he moved onto the next one. When he did turn 17 so very many months ago, his original Gringotts key emitted a strange glow before growing slightly longer and a little more ornate. After reading the pamphlet “Your Magical Map to Money: Plotting a Course for Financial Success” he’d picked up on his first visit to the bank and almost immediately thrown in the bottom of his trunk, Harry realised his key had mutated to unlock both his personal vault and his parents’. The wizarding world could certainly be odd sometimes, but in that case said oddness had been wonderfully convenient. Tentatively inserting the key into the vaults’ lock, he twisted it once to the left and heard the tell tale sound of gears at work. The complex mechanisms lining the interior of the vault door creaked and cracked and with a satisfied clunk, the door swung open with groan to reveal the vault within. On the left hand side of the room was a bookshelf filled with all sorts of magical and non magical texts and next to it was a cabinet lined with a few Potter family heirlooms which had more historical than monetary value. On the right hand side were a handful of positively ancient looking portraits hanging on the wall and a few pieces of antique furniture. Finally, in the middle was a small circular table with an envelope addressed to Harry sitting atop it.

After searching through the room and collecting a few items he thought might be useful (A book on parallel dimensions and another on otherworldly creatures), he found the envelope in the centre. He gently opened the weathered parchment and paused to run his fingertips over the delicate handwriting which spelled out his name on the front. Within he found a thick, folded piece of parchment, a legal document, and a plain key with a small tag attached to it. Unfolding the thick piece of parchment, Harry found a note from his mum:

“Harry, if you’re reading this then you’ve finally turned 17! And if this isn’t Harry and instead some sort of master thief, the valuable are strapped to the bottom of one the desk drawers. Now that we’ve got that out of the way I can tell you how proud I am of you! I wrote this after you were born as I was so very certain that would would grow up to be an outstanding young man. I may not be around when you read this, those sorts of things are uncertain in war. But I don’t need to be there to tell you how much I love you, how much we love you. Life isn’t always kind. But just remember, if we did perish during the war we weren’t sacrifices, and we certainly weren’t soldiers. First and foremost, we were your parents. The proud parents of Harry James Potter and nothing, not even death, can change that fact. Good luck my darling and always remember not to freeze in the face of adversity, fight it. Cause you’ve only got one chance at a fulfilling life, so don’t waste it. P.S. The key i've enclosed is for a house me and your father purchased before you were born. It's in this wonderfully quaint town called Hawkins. So if ever life becomes too much, this is the town for you. I can promise you that nothing of interest ever happens there and therefore nothing of interest will happen to you. Enjoy the tranquility my dear!" 

Tears stained the parchment as Harry for once in his life felt a sense of closure. His parents weren’t just legends, they weren’t simply soldiers in a war, they were his parents and they loved him so very much. The letter made him realise just how much he’d missed out on. Harry was denied the loving upbringing he so desperately wanted and 6 months ago he was denied that same love once more. Instead of disheartening Harry, it inspired him. His parents wouldn’t want him to wallow in his own despair. The only way he was going to live a rich and meaningful life was by seizing it. Folding up the letter, Harry placed it in his jacket pocket and reviewed the rest of the envelope’s contents. The legal document was exactly as his mother had described, it was the deed to a house in America. Written in dense technical language and topped off with a seal at the bottom, this piece of paper legally entitled him to a fresh start. It didn’t say that explicitly, but it certainly gave him the tools to do so. With the plain key that he’d found bouncing around at the bottom of the envelope, he had everything he needed to leave England for good.

Wiping the tears from his cheeks, he stepped out of the vault and locked it just as he did the other. This would probably be his last interaction with the magical world for quite some time, it was a shame it had to be with a bank. Hopping back in the cart, he activated the guidance system and was taken back to the surface. Taking one last look at it all, Harry left Gringotts and the Britain’s wizarding world behind.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After leaving Gringotts, Harry realised he had one problem: gold galleons weren’t exactly an accepted currency in North America or, for that matter, the world. They were lovely to look at, but with no more witches or wizards, being in possession of such a large of gold made him feel like a reserve bank. And as Harry didn’t need to stabilise his nation’s currency or repay loans to the IMF, he felt it best that he convert all of his precious metals into legal tender. He had exited Diagon Alley by this point and spied a telephone booth across the road from the Leaky Cauldron. Calling up the directory line, Harry asked for a large scale metal exchange in London and was given an address. He’d been to the area once before on a family outing, so with this in mind he apparated to the general vicinity and walked the five minutes to his destination. Canary Wharf was one of the most esteemed business districts in London, playing host to both major banks and luxury apartments alike. He felt out of place walking into the marble foyer of the Meticulously Measured Metal Market as he was wearing a brown leather jacket and chinos as opposed to the morning coat and top hat he thought might be more appropriate. If anything, it reminded him of Gringotts except the staff there only looked like Goblins rather than being actual Goblins themselves. He approached the front desk and asked if he could see the precious metals broker, the receptionist lazily looked up at him with a contemptuous glare.

“Name.” He said in a disinterested voice.

“Harry Potter.” Harry replied.

“Purpose of visit.” 

“To exchange gold for American dollars.” He said as succinctly as possible.

“Take a seat.” He said before picking up the phone and dialling a number on the intercom.

Harry went and took a seat on the plush couches which lined the walls and flipped through a copy of The Times. After a few minutes, he was called back up to the reception desk and lead further into the building until they reached an office suite.

“Mr.Potter! So good to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!” Hurriedly said a man sitting at an ornate desk in the centre of the suite. Standing up, he came over and shook Harry’s hand with shocking enthusiasm.

“But we’ve never met before.” Noted Harry, confused at the interaction.  
“Well, from what Johan told me over the intercom you sound like a positively splendid chap.”

“What exactly did Johan say about me?”

“That you were a customer looking to exchange gold for American dollars, and that’s something I love in people. Honestly, a shockingly overlooked character trait. Do take a seat.” He said at breakneck speed, gesturing to one of the plush chairs on the other side of the desk.

“You’ve got a lovely office.” Harry mentioned, looking around at the Baroque decor sprinkled throughout the room.

“I’m very good, thank you for asking. How are you?” Said the man, oblivious to Harry’s previous statement.

“I’m the last living wizard.” Harry said as seriously as he possibly could

“Really, how interesting. I think my partner should be coming now.”

Through the door walked a woman dressed quite like everyone else at the metal exchange. She made her way over to Harry and shook his hand just as enthusiastically as her partner, before taking a seat beside the man who’s name Harry did not yet know.

“So pleased to have you here today Mr.Potter, absolutely made my day when Johan told us you were here. I’ve been waiting to meet you for years now. I was saying that very thing just a few days ago wasn’t I Edward?” She said turning to the man beside her.

“Almost certainly Barbara, she would not stop telling me how excited she was to meet you. And I was probably telling her the exact same thing.” They both laughed in unison, tilting their heads back in an exaggerated manner and mopping up the tears of joy that had been produced by Edward's alleged "joke" from their cheeks with company branded handkerchiefs.

“Now Harry, can I call you Harry?” Barbara asked and Harry nodded in reply “Wonderful. So Harry, what brings you here today?”

“I have some gold…” Harry said before being swiftly interrupted by Edward

“Really?! How fascinating!”

“…yes, I have some gold and I’d like to exchange it for US dollars if that’s at all possible.”

“Well, that certainly is a story. Do you think we can manage it Edward?” Asked Barbara

“You can’t spell ‘large scale precious metals exchange’ without Edward and Barbara.” Edward said, giving Harry a cheesy wink.

“Now Harry, if you’ll come with us to the exchange chamber we can have your transaction completed before the 10 o’clock news.” Barbara said, leading Harry to a door off to the side of the room.

“I mean, I hope it’ll be over long before then. It’s only 11am.”

Harry entered what they called the ‘exchange chamber’. It was a pristine metal room with a single aluminium bench in the middle. Atop the bench sat a set of scales and a large sink where, presumably, one places excess metals.

“We’ll give you some privacy. We both know how personal and intimate one’s treasure can be. Just give us a yell if you require any assistance.” They both exited the room and Harry was left alone in the exchange chamber. Realising that he probably didn’t need to exchange all of his wizarding wealth and that doing so would only draw unnecessary suspicion, Harry opened up his magically extended coin purse and summoned a reasonable amount of galleons. Placing them on the scales, Harry called Barbara and Edward back into the room. On their return they entered wielding calculators, note pads, and a number of buzzing electronic devices: the tools of their trade.

First, they prodded and poked the Galleons with a long, thin rod. They appeared to pass that test. Next, they scanned them with some kind of reader. They passed that test as well. And finally, they applied an unknown chemical to them with a delicate pipette. They seemed to pass this one with flying colours as Barbara and Edward nodded vigorously at one another after seeing the results.

“Mr.Potter, we can officially certify that these gold coins, as licensed representatives of the Meticulously Measured Metal Market corporation, are genuine and pure according to all proper protocols and procedures.” Barbara said, marking a large tick on the document she had affixed to her clipboard.

“Congratulations sir, you are the proud owner of 354 troy ounces of 24 carat gold.” Edward said while trying to shake Harry’s hand, but by this point he’d stuck them in his jacket pockets as a precaution against the MMMM’s penchant for unnecessarily enthusiastic handshakes. 

“How much does that work out to in dollar terms?” Harry asked

“Just one moment Mr.Potter.” Said Barbara before walking over to a starkly contrasting dark, wooden cabinet door on the left hand side of the room. She opened it and revealed an indented chamber with a single slot in the middle, a dial on the right hand side, and a button on the left. Setting the dial to “GOLD”, Barbara pressed the button and a ticker tape of information started to print from the slot. After about half a meter of information had been printed, she pressed the button once more and tore off the length of paper. She stretched the thin piece of ticker tape out to its’ full length while Edward ran his finger down it searching for pertinent information.

“Sandra at HQ says hello, Ray asks if we’d like to go fishing with him next weekend (“I’m always up for fishing with Ray!”), and…ah! Here we are, we are authorised to purchase this gold for $670 USD per troy ounce. Resulting in a total of…” Edward said, pulling out his calculator to quickly crunch the numbers “…$237,180. Is that satisfactory?”

“You'll hear no complaints from me! Will that be in cash or cheque?” Harry said excitedly

“We strongly suggest you opt for a cheque. If you do insist on receiving the sum in cash we strongly advise you consider our range of Large Sums of Physical Money insurance. If you take out the top level of cover you’re insured against arranged marriages, elaborate heists, murder plots, and other such flamboyant attempts at thievery.” 

“Cheque it is then.” Harry replied, not really wanting to engage with the complexities of insurance or the risk of cash “But could you give me, say, $5000 of that now in pounds. Just to facilitate my immediate financial needs.”

“Certainly Mr.Potter! Your immediate financial needs are OUR immediate financial needs.” Barbara said pleasantly

So Harry left MMMM with £5000, a cheque sealed within a small manilla envelope, and a complimentary gift basket from Edward and Barbara.

“Pleasant travels Harry!”

“Best of luck with whatever you require in excess of $200,000 for!”

Waving goodbye to his overenthusiastic new friends, Harry caught a taxi to Heathrow airport, bought himself a plane ticket to Indiana and set off for the USA.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-October 6th 1983-

He landed in Indianapolis airport after a lengthy plane ride and hopped in a taxi cab. Reading the tag attached to the key his parents had left him, Harry told the driver his destination.

“Hawkins. Hawkins, Indiana.”

“You do realise that Hawkins is 3 hours from here?” Said the cab driver incredulously

“I know, I just have to get there. And I don’t really know how to drive and I’m reasonably unfamiliar with your public transport system, so a taxi seemed like the best option.” Harry said as he settle himself in the cab.

“Why do you need to get to Hawkins so badly anyway?” Asked the cab driver quizzically

“As far as I can tell, it’s probably my destiny. And this destiny feels a lot less stressful than my last one.”

“Well, let’s hope destiny is paying cause it ain’t gonna be cheap.”

After the three hour journey his driver had promised him, Harry had got to know Vince very well. He was the loving father of 2 children, the devoted husband of 1 working wife, and the proud owner Vince’s Taxis. He lead a simple life, the kind of life Harry was searching for. One lacking in monsters or blood feuds, civil wars or underground resistances. Overall, Harry wanted a life that was his own rather than one shaped by events beyond his control. This would be a life where he decided what de…Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. They had just passed the sign welcoming them to Hawkins and the moment they did, Harry felt a frisson of apprehension. It wasn’t the feeling of dread or terror or even excitement, no, it was the feeling of magic. Harry didn’t quite know what, but there was something magical taking place in the town Hawkins.

“Welp, there goes my plan for a simple life.”


End file.
